Gin
by bacta.junkie
Summary: Written for Your-Arrow-Girl's beverage challenge. Spoof of old detective movies, and sort of a parody of Casablanca. T for language. Enjoy :


**Written for Your-Arrow-Girl's beverage challenge. Clocked in at 847 words. Note the Casablanca reference, as well as the a few silly detective movie jokes I put in.**

* * *

It was a rainy day in London. But then, isn't ever day in London rainy?

Rather, it was a rainy evening, as it was nearing midnight. I had spent most of the night in this same seedy bar, the same bar I always drank at. I drank my gin, like every night, and spent the time trying to get rid of my memories. Trying to forget who I was.

Someone once asked me why I drank so much. They said, "Alcohol is poison."

I told them, "There are things inside me I'd like to kill."

So I drank.

And then, she walked in.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.

She sat at the bar beside me, and wouldn't you know it, she ordered a gin.

Now, there's a reason I drink gin. Gin makes a person a special kind of drunk. Gin makes people A) sad and B) honest. Not that it matters to me; I didn't drink to talk to people anyway. I drank to forget. That was the other thing gin did, if you could get enough of it.

She clearly didn't recognize me beneath the glow of the fluorescent lights. I suppose it was the clothes. I'd taken to wearing muggle clothes when going into muggle London. Go figure.

Perhaps it was the black-and-white filter. Perhaps it was the noir detective narration. Maybe it was the gin,

Come to think of it, it was probably the gin,

But when I heard her crying, I couldn't stop myself.

"Granger, what's wrong?"

It took her a second, even after hearing her name, to realize someone was talking to her. It took her a second second to realize who had done the talking.

"None of your goddamn business, Malfoy."

"Merlin, Granger, I just wanted to help."

She looked at me for the first time in over two years.

Now, some back story for you.

Granger and I had been heads at Hogwarts three years ago. Halfway through the year, we had begun a secret, illicit affair- she was dating Weasley at the time- and at the end of the year, she left me for him.

I suppose it was somewhat my fault for making her choose.

I hadn't seen her since graduation. Come to think of it, she was half the reason I could be found at this bar so often in the first place.

Anyway, back to the story.

She was still just as beautiful as the last time I saw her. Except, you know, crying.

"Help? Help?" She was shouting now. I thought she was going to hit me. Instead, she collapsed on the bar, sobbing. I put my arm around her shoulder and sighed, downing the rest of my gin and buying us both another round.

Merlin knew we'd both need it.

All of a sudden, I spotted a glint that made me withdraw my arm abruptly.

A diamond ring on her finger.

"Granger, you're married? How come I wasn't invited to the wedding?" I feigned offense, hoping to get a laugh out of her. Instead, she looked at the ring, and cried harder.

I stood, wrapping my coat around her shoulders and walked her to a booth. I instructed the bartender to bring our drinks there.

"Granger, why don't you tell me what happened," I asked with genuine concern.

"R-Ron p-proposed," she sniffled.

"Shouldn't that be a good thing?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I don't love him. I don't want to marry him." She'd calmed down a bit by now.

I sighed. "Then why'd you take the ring?"

"He put me on the spot, everyone was watching- oh, Draco, I'm so confused-" she burst into tears once more. I held her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

We stayed like that for ten minutes, until she finally calmed down again.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I suppose I'll just… return the ring, I guess. Give it back. Tell him we aren't getting married. That I don't love him."

"And then what?" We'd gotten close, closer than either of us was comfortable with.

Suddenly her lips were on mine. I didn't mind the closeness anymore.

Then she was gone, out the door in a fit of confusion.

"Granger, wait!" I followed her into the thunderstorm.

"Granger, I love you!" She just looked at me, her expression somewhere between confusion, terror, and hope.

I started running towards her.

She disappeared with a crack.

I walked back inside, downed both of our drinks, and returned to the bar.

"That the girl you always talk about?" asked the bartender.

"Yeah."

"I can see why you're in here so often."

* * *

Two days later, with no warning whatsoever, she appeared beside me on that same barstool, and snogged me senseless before I even knew she was there.

I couldn't help but notice the distinct lack of ring on her finger.

I supposed I'd have to fix that.

I downed my gin.

I payed my tab.

We walked out the door, arm in arm, into the storm.

* * *

**Mmmm... Delicious, delicious Gin...**


End file.
